Cheese Promise!

I promised my little cousins, Samara and her twin sisters, that I would bring them cheese when I returned from Switzerland. It was an emotional WhatsApp video call that lasted almost 20 minutes. I had never tried cheese before and still struggle with it, but when they asked, “Will you bring us cheese from Switzerland?” I couldn’t say no.

Rome was the last stop on my study trip before returning to Nairobi, and my plan was clear: enjoy a week in the Vatican, dine in Italian restaurants, and pick up a small souvenir. After all, who wouldn’t want an Italian shoe, an Italian suit, or even a fine leather belt from Italy? From Rome, I would head to Geneva, get the cheese, add some chocolates, and surprise my cousins with a doorstep delivery (just like in the movies) with a little note saying, “Sorry I missed Christmas, but this is for you!”

Did you know that the Vatican is probably the only place in the world where an ATM offers Latin as a language option? The screen literally says, “Inserito scidulam quaeso,” meaning “Please insert your card.” My friend Bismark found this out first-hand, but not at the Vatican. Instead, he inserted his card in a Chinese restaurant in Rome. On our first night, we were starving, and a man does not sleep on an empty stomach. Not if he is from Ghana. Didn’t you know Ghana was once the land of gold? Who sleeps on a hungry stomach when his history speaks of gold and honey? The next morning, I asked Bismark how the meal was, and he just laughed as if to say, “it was Chinese and not EATALY!”

We enjoyed three-course lunches and dinners every day, blending African and Asian flavours with European and American cuisine. I might introduce this three-course dining culture at home. Maybe not as the Italians do, with each course on a separate plate, but all at once, which, come to think of it, is what we already do back home.

I smiled as my friends took turns shaking the Pope’s hand. It was the most incredible moment of our seven-day trip. “Don’t shake my hand, ooh! Didn’t you see I greeted the Pope?” Adeneko teased.

“Did you see? He looked at me and called me to greet him!” Salome responded with joy.

“He called us, not only you!” Adeneko joked. We all laughed jokingly.

“I saw you taking pictures. Did you capture me greet him?” Salome asked Adeneko and asked to see the pictures. He said he did not. We laughed again. “Why do you take many unnecessary pictures and miss the necessary one?” Salome asked. She did not let Adeneko take any pictures on her even after he showed her he had captured the handshake with the Pope. We were all there.

The Bible tells the story of a woman who suffered from a haemorrhage for 12 years. She had spent all her money on doctors, but no one could heal her. Under Jewish law, her condition made her ceremonially unclean, barring her from touching others, entering the temple, or participating in religious life. She was, essentially, an outcast. You know the story, right?

It is said that when Jesus walked through a crowded area, the woman believed that if she could just touch the edge of his garment, she would be healed. So she came up behind him, touched the hem of his robe, and instantly, her bleeding stopped.

We all had our reasons for being excited to see the Pope up close and shake his hand, but that’s not the point. I know you’re expecting me to say that someone’s bleeding stopped after touching the Pope’s hand, but no, that’s not it either.

I told you I was going to Rome and I knew you had doubts but guess what? We met the Pope three times in one week. No Catholic Bishop in Kenya has done that and while you can secure a loan from a bank with this statement, its not my point either. Next week, I will tell you a story about Adeneko but for now, I have to go buy cheese for my cousins. Because, yes, you don’t break promises to little cousins.